


Protective Custody

by copperbadge



Category: Southland
Genre: Gen, Implied Child Abuse, hero complexes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-15
Updated: 2009-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperbadge/pseuds/copperbadge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuck you, Cooper likes saving people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protective Custody

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for implied child abuse. Thanks to Foxy for betas!

_Ben Sherman's in the hospital._

_It's not John Cooper's fault._

Except, you know, it _kind of_ is. It's not like Cooper was even within shouting distance of the kid when it happened, but he's his training officer. That makes everything that happens to Sherman his fault in a kind of abstract way.

The thing is, he's never met anyone who needs less training than Sherman. All rookies need to get slapped around a little, and this one's no exception, but Sherman's already basically Coop's partner, and once he gets his impulses under control he's going to be fucking _awesome_. So yeah, okay, technically Sherman is in the hospital and technically it is Cooper's fault but he really doesn't feel too bad about it. Except where he worries about the kid with any energy he has to spare while he does the paperwork and clocks off and gets his ass over to the hospital. 

Man, Sherman looks like _shit._

Cooper doesn't go inside the darkened room, because someone else is sitting in there already, but the light from the hallway shows just how much trouble you can get into when a crackhead comes after you with a baseball bat during a bust. He's got a black eye, a raw-scraped cheekbone, one arm in a sling (but no cast, at least) and a thing on his collarbone that might be a bandage or might just be tape holding down some medical bullshit, Cooper can't tell. 

He stands outside the doorway and watches for a while, not so much wondering if he should interrupt as waiting for a change, and he'll go from there, because he's good at waiting. When the change does happen, he decides to wait a little longer.

Sherman's eyes open and he looks around, confused, until whoever-it-is touches his hand, and then -- ahh, there's his boy, that laser focus flickering up into Sherman's eyes so fast you'd think he'd blinked, instead of passed out. 

"Dad?" he asks. Cooper swears inside his head.

"Hey, kiddo," Sherman's father says, leaning forward so his face too catches the light. Cooper considers shooting him in the back of the head, but murder trials are boring and they put you on paid administrative leave. He hates missing work. Plus, prison et al. 

"The hell you doing here?" Sherman asks.

"What, I can't come see you when you're sick?"

"No," Sherman mutters. He tries to roll over and groans. Have fun with that, kid; wait till you're forty and it's every day.

"I heard you were hurt," Sherman's dad says, and Cooper almost feels sorry for him, until he remembers who walked out and let who get his ten-year-old ass kicked by drug dealers. "I wanted to see you."

"Yeah, well, you saw me. Fuck off," Sherman replies. Good kid. 

"I know you think I don't care, but I do," his father says. Cooper rolls his eyes. "I'm proud of you."

Sherman is silent, looking away -- anywhere but his father's face. 

"I am. I brag about you to my friends. I mean, you know where their kids are?" Sherman's father ticks them off on his fingers. "Prison. Rehab. House arrest -- " 

"Says something about the kinds of friends you have," Sherman rasps. "Get the hell away from me."

"Not until we talk about a few things," his father says, and Cooper finds himself knocking on the open doorway without thinking about it. Both men look up sharply; Sherman winces. Sherman Senior frowns. 

"Officer Carter, right?" he says, and then he's all smiles, offering his hand as he stands up. Cooper looks down at it. Sherman's watching Cooper.

Well, isn't this just a fucking kitchen-sink drama.

"How you doin', kid?" he says, turning away from Sherman's dad. 

"Cooper." Sherman's found a smile somewhere, but there's desperation in his voice. "Sorry to stick you with the paperwork."

"Yeah, I'll take that out of your ass later," Cooper says. He turns his attention back to Sherman Senior. He's a cop, he prioritizes; check the kid before you deal with Daddy. Get Daddy out of the room. "John Cooper. Kid looks tired. Why don't you let me buy you a cup of coffee?"

"Ben and I have some things to talk about," Sherman's dad says. 

"Bijon, you gonna be dead by tomorrow?" Cooper asks. Sherman frowns -- they must have him on the good drugs -- and shakes his head. "Good. Then it can wait."

"Officer Cooper, I have things to discuss with my son," Sherman's dad says. 

Oh, this is gonna be good. 

"And I think he told you to fuck off," Cooper replies. 

"What did you say?"

"I said," Cooper raises his voice as if speaking to someone slightly dim or slightly deaf, "Your son...told you...to fuck off." He lowers his voice again. "Now you can leave, or I can throw your ass out."

"I'm his _father_ ," Sherman Senior declares. 

"Congratulations, you can come," Cooper remarks. Sherman, behind them, is so quiet and still, eyes darting back and forth. "Or could twenty years ago, anyhow."

"Get out," Sherman's dad says.

"No," Cooper says.

And then of course, because this is a domestic in a twisted kind of way, Sherman's dad starts shouting about his parental rights and Cooper just keeps repeating that Mr. Sherman needs to leave and his poor kid's lying there, pleading, _Coop, please, please, sir_ which Cooper would take as a cue to leave himself, except he knows what's being asked, because it's the way kids say things when they can't say them.

And then Sherman's dad shoves him.

In the half-second between the shove and Cooper regaining his balance, all sorts of thoughts go through his head. Now that this asshole's thrown the first punch, there are a lot of things he can do. He could still shoot him, but administrative leave is _really boring_. He could kick his ass, but they've been cracking down with the Excessive Force charges lately. He could book him for assault, but the guy's a criminal defense attorney. That's not really going to work. 

What he does, in the end, is bounce back with his weight forward, spin the other man around by one shoulder, and armlock him. He kicks Daddy's legs out from under him and hauls him outside, and several nurses look up in alarm as a uniform drags a screaming man out of a hospital room. 

Security is there pretty fucking fast for a pair of rent-a-cops, and Cooper shoves Sherman's dad into their arms.

"Get him out of the hospital. Don't let him back in," he tells them, and they obey without question. Man, a cop could really get away with murder in this town if he knew how to go about it right. 

Inside the hospital room, Sherman is agitated -- trying to sit up, studying the tubes and wires hooked up to his body, swaying back and forth when the drugs make him dizzy. Cooper puts a hand flat on his chest and pushes him down, and Sherman goes as soon as he sees who it is. Cooper leaves his hand there for a moment, until Sherman gentles and quiets under it. 

"Sir," he mumbles, but he looks up at Cooper with...gratitude, with the look that's the reason Cooper keeps training rookies, a sort of wholehearted but wary devotion. And lingering behind that, Cooper sees shame and relief in equal parts, like he sees in every little kid he ever pulled out of harm's way. Yeah, fuck you, maybe it's dysfunctional that Cooper likes to save people, likes being liked for pulling an abusive parent off a six year old or dragging Sherman's asshole dad away from him when he's _bedridden and drugged_. 

Cooper puts up with enough bullshit in life that he's okay with having a hero complex. 

"Thanks," Sherman adds. 

"No problem. Go to sleep," Cooper says, and pulls up the chair Sherman's father had been sitting in. His back's going to punish him for it tomorrow, but once you take responsibility for a rookie they're kind of yours for life. 

"Yessir," Sherman slurs, already only half-conscious. 

Cooper leans back carefully and settles in for the night watch.


End file.
